the loose soil, walk round the bird, mount it as if to see how the work is proceeding, and then disappear afresh and renew their labours. Sometimes they dig rather too much on one side, and then they appear sadly puzzled, running round and round the bird, getting on it as if to press it down with their weight, pulling it this way and that way; and at last they do what they ought to have done at first, namely, disappear under the bird and scrape away the earth until the hole is large enough to allow the bird to sink into the required position.

The time occupied in the transaction necessarily varies, according to the size of the buried object and the condition of the beetle; but on the average an ordinary finch, or a mouse, can be buried in the course of a day. When the task is completed, a number of eggs are laid upon the buried animal, and then the beetles emerge, cover it with earth, and then fly away. In some cases they will bury a whole series of corpses; and in the wellknown experiments of M. Gleiditsch, four beetles buried, in a small piece of earth, four frogs, three birds, two fishes, one mole, two grasshoppers, the entrails of a fish, and two pieces of meat. And so strong and persevering are these insects, that a single beetle succeeded in burying a mole in two days. Now the mole is at least forty times as large as the beetle, so that we can estimate the strength and perseverance of the beetle by calculating the labour which would be necessary for a man to inter, in two days, an animal forty times as large as himself.

Perhaps the reader may remember a curious analogy between the mode of sepulture employed by these beetles, and the mode of sinking wells in sandy soil. Instead of digging a hole, and then building a brick-lining to it, a circular tower is first built, and then, by scraping away the sand from within, the workmen cause it to sink into the ground. When it has sunk sufficiently, some twelve or fourteen feet are added, and the sand again scraped out; and in this manner the brick tube sinks gradually down, and becomes the lining of the well.

THE beetle just mentioned conveys into its burrow the whole of the substance on which the grub is intended to feed; but those which we shall now examine select only a portion for that purpose. There is a very large tribe of beetles, of which the British type is the common DOR BEETLE (Geotrupes vulgaris),

sometimes called the Watchman, or Clock, whose heavy hum drones upon the ear in the evening, as the

"Beetle wheels his drowsy flight,"

and whose hard and notched head occasionally strikes against the face with a violence less agreeable to the man than to the insect, the latter being quite undisturbed by the shock.

Catch one of these beetles, and examine the wondrous beauty of its colour, how its polished surface gleams as if made of burnished steel, pure and bright as armour just out of the smith's hands. Yet this creature has, in all probability, been burrowing deeply into the ground, has been meddling with the most noxious substances, and still retains no trace of its past labours. Save for the round-bodied yellow parasites that cling to its body, and insert their beaks between the joints of its armour, it is brilliantly clean. Not a speck of mould remains upon its surface, not a stain defiles its limbs, neither does it retain the least odour which would betray its occupation. Other beetles are not so fortunate. The burying beetles just mentioned are mightily ill-savoured insects, and so are many others with similar habits. But the Dor beetle is free from such noisomeness, and both the eye and the nostrils pronounce it pure.

Let us now watch this beautiful insect, as it wheels through the air. Either by the development of the sense of smell, or by some sixth sense with which humanity is practically unacquainted, the beetle is made aware that the object of its search is at hand. The dull, monotonous buzz is immediately exchanged for a triumphant hum, the circling flight ceases, and the beetle darts through the air, with arrow-like rapidity, to the spot which it seeks. A few more circles, lessening at every round, and down it settles, on an object uninviting to Europeans, but in great favour with Hindoos, Kaffirs, and scarabæi, namely, a patch of cow-dung.

No sooner has it settled, than it dives downwards until it reaches the earth, and then bores a perpendicular hole, some eight inches in depth, and large enough to admit a man's finger. I have often watched the beetles at their work, and seen them thus engaged, and have turned many a Dor beetle out of the burrow which it had been so industriously excavating. Having ascended to the surface, it carries a quantity of the cow-dung to

the bottom of the burrow, deposits an egg, and ascends, repeating this process as long as its powers endure. There are several other British beetles which prepare the cradle for their offspring in a similar manner.

Merely to dig a hole, to place at the bottom of it the food which the young are intended to eat, and to fill it in with earth, is a process of great simplicity, and makes but few calls on the industry or ingenuity of the labourer. Some allied beetles there are, however, which feed their young on similar substances, and in like manner, bury them in the earth, but which exercise extraordinary industry in the performance of the task. All the world has heard of the famous SCARABEUS of the Egyptians, (Scarabaeus sacer,) an insect which is found in many parts of the globe, and very much resembles the Dor beetle of our own country. This insect sets to work in a curiously systematic

manner.

As soon as the sensitive organs of the Scarabæus announce to it that the desired substance is at hand, it proceeds to the spot, alights, and sets at once to work. First, it sinks a tolerably deep and perpendicular hole in the ground, and, having returned to the cow-dung, it separates a sufficient quantity for its purpose, lays an egg in it, and forms it into a rude ball. She, for the female insect is the worker, then begins a curious and laborious task. Seizing the ball between her hind feet, she begins to roll it about in the hot sunshine, not taking it direct to the shaft which she has sunk, but remaining near the spot. Should rain come on she ceases to roll, or should the ball be made just before sunset, she waits for the morning before recommencing her labour. The consequence of all this curious rolling about, is twofold; it accelerates the hatching of the enclosed egg by the exposure to the sunbeams, and it forms a thin, hard, clay-like crust round the soft material in which the egg reposes.

When the ball is sufficiently rolled, it is taken to the hole, dropped down and the earth filled in. The egg is very soon hatched, and from it proceeds a little white grub, which finds itself at once in the midst of food, and begins to eat vigorously. By the time it has devoured the whole of the contents of its cocoon-if the mere empty shell may be so called-it is ready for its change into the pupal form, and there lies in the earth until it again changes its form and becomes a perfect beetle.